And yet... Here we are

A "new" proposal

Jaskier had been in Novigrad for a year and a month. He hadn't heard anything from the black-haired mage or the insane man. Despite thinking he perhaps had met them in his past before, he still hadn't been able to remember anything about them. He sat on a stool at the bar of the same tavern he always stayed when he was in the town. He stared at the blank paper in front of him rather than on any of the women that moved around him. The bard had been trying to write a new ballad for nine months now and had come up with nothing original. He had never felt less inspired. 

His attention turned when the door flung open. The visibly disheveled man entered the tavern and sat down at the bar. His clothes were slightly torn and bloody. His eyes looked hollow as though he had seen something he would never be able to forget. Perhaps that story could be the ballad he had been searching for. 

The man walked to the bar of the tavern. His blond hair fell in his face as sat beside the troubadour. Jaskier tuned, his writing tool still in his hand. 

"What happened to you?" Zoltan asked before Jaskier could. He handed the blond man a beer in hopes of starting the conversation. 

"Have you not heard?" The man asked with a rasped voice. "There's monsters in the woods outside of town. The temple guard have layered every notice board with contracts for a Witcher to take care of them, but none have come to fulfil the contract. They even marked up the price despite them having no intention to pay that much and still no word."

"Did you escape them?" Jaskier gestured to the man's clothes. 

"No. No, thank the God's I didn't have that misfortune. I was on the border of the town when I caught sight of my friend. He nearly lost his footing, so I caught him. He tore my sleeve on the way down. He had run from the creatures with some luck. The adrenaline had kept him from noticing his entrails were falling out of his body. He told me of the horrors he had witnessed as his body succumbed to the wounds. After that, I felt as though I needed a drink." 

Jaskier was scribbling in his journal when the man stopped talking. He could have stuck out his bottom lip in a pout. That was the end of the story? What was he to write from one friend who ran from monsters and was disemboweled? 

"That's horrible." Zoltan said quietly and shook his head. "This world is getting less and less safe." 

"Did he say what they looked like? Did the monsters speak to him or just attack? Did he say?" Jaskier asked, eager for details. 

"I would rather not think about it bard." The man grumbled as he took a mug of beer greedily. He lifted it to his lips as he turned his back to Jaskier. The conversation was done, and the troubadour only had more questions. 

The bard sat in silence for a moment before he stood. If he rode to the edges of the city, he could steal a glance. Surely a glance wouldn't hurt. It wouldn't be like he was confronting the monsters head on. He would just go to see the damage and then come back to the safety of the heart of the city. 

Jaskier stood and bid his friend behind the bar farewell with a statement that he would be back later. He left the tavern and untied Pegasus from the pole. The mare greeted him with a sniff and a snort as he mounted her. Jaskier settled into the saddle before he started on his way out of town. 

The bard grabbed one of the torches from a post along the path so he would be able to see. People warned him the entire way to the bridge. He ignored them. He kept telling himself that he was just going to look at the sight and get away before anything would happen to him. He would be fine. 

However, a shiver ran down his spine as soon as he actually crossed the bridge and entered into the woods. The air was eerily still. No deer ran across the path. No bunnies could be seen nor squirrels. The bard hardly breathed in fear he would disrupt the steadiness. Wind blew through the air as though trying to tell him to move from the security of his saddle. Jaskier obliged.